


Every tool is a weapon if you hold it right

by myrish_lace



Series: Absence Makes the Heart Grow Fonder [6]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Blood and Injury, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, F/M, Fix-It, Scheming, Spoilers, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-21
Updated: 2017-08-21
Packaged: 2018-12-18 10:23:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11872356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrish_lace/pseuds/myrish_lace
Summary: Jon sees inside Drogon’s mind when he touches him on Dragonstone, and catches a glimpse of the dragon's madness. He’s afraid Daenerys may have the same tendencies. But now he knows how badly they need her dragons, and he does what he must to ensure the safety of those he loves.Spoilers through Episode 6 of Season 7 of Game of Thrones. All dialogue belongs to Game of Thrones.





	Every tool is a weapon if you hold it right

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Ani DiFranco's song "My I.Q." Please note Daenerys isn't a total villain here, and Jon's conflicted about playing the game, so if you're looking for a story that does nothing but trash Daenerys, this isn't it.

He was drawn to Drogon when Daenerys landed on Dragonstone, fresh from her encounter with the Lannisters. The wind was strong enough to blow him off the cliff, and the dragon’s roar threatened to deafen him, but he was transfixed. He took off his glove as if he was in a dream.

When he touched the creature’s snout, he was whisked away. He’d been in Ghost’s mind before, but this – this was nothing like communicating with his direwolf.

Drogon’s mind was huge, disjointed, a whirlwind of black fury.

He saw through the dragon’s eyes, and felt the beast’s savage joy as the Lannister soldiers screamed, engulfed in flame. The smell of burning flesh had made the dragon salivate.

Drogon tugged at Jon’s mind. _Join me. Join us_. The pull was frighteningly seductive, to succumb to madness.

 _Monsters_ , he thought.

Daenerys dismounted. Jon stepped back. He was still her captive. He had to tread carefully.

She smiled at him. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

Jon resisted the urge to wipe his hand before slipping his glove back on. “Not exactly the word I was thinking.”

Daenerys whipped around. Her lavender eyes were blazing.

 _We need her_ , he thought wearily. “But yes, they are. Gorgeous beasts.”

“They’re not beasts to me. No matter how big they get, they’ll always be my children.”

Daenerys's skirts billowed around her. The dragons wheeled and turned in the sunlight.

She must share their minds, and their emotions, when she rode them. How could he fully trust a woman who flew monsters like that into battle?

***

Three weeks later, he had no choice but to beg for those monsters to save him.

The battle was lost. His men stood in a tiny circle on the outcropping in the middle of the frozen lake. They were hemmed in on all sides by the army of the dead. Thoros was already gone. Jorah's teeth were chattering. 

Jon could barely feel the biting cold anymore.  His days in the Watch taught him he was on his way to freezing to death. The end was close for all of them. Whether at the hands of the army, or in the patient arms of winter.

He flinched as he heard the ice on the lake crack in the distance. It was holding, so far, but what if the dead rushed out to meet them?

They weren’t going to last, unless Gendry got the message to Daenerys. They were hopelessly outnumbered.

Then the Hound threw a rock, and the dead swarmed over the lake. Their bones clattered as they ran.

The last sound he’d ever hear.

He was struggling to hold on to his sword when he felt a billowing cloud of heat behind him. Dragon screams shattered the sky.

Daenerys and her dragons sliced through the dead like a scythe through wheat. They fell, thousands and thousands of them, in seconds.

Their fire outmatched any army of men. Watching the dead burn, he felt, for the first time, that they had a real chance to win the war. He fought with new zeal, trying to save the rest.

“To me!” He helped each man grab onto one of Drogon's spines.

 _Get them out. Get the wight out_. _End this nightmare of a mission._

He heard the Night King’s spear whistle through the air before it struck Viserion’s wing. The beast burst into flame, tumbling from the sky.

The dragons keened as Viserion sank in to the lake.

Jon hadn’t thought he could get any colder until Viserion dropped out of sight.  _The Night King will take him_. He thought of the enormous bear had almost killed him. 

The enemy now had a dragon of their own.

***

Jon felt the rocking of the boat before he opened his eyes. A sick wave of remorse washed over him. Uncle Benjen had died, for his stupidity. Daenerys had lost a dragon, and given a gift to the Night King.

Daenerys sat next to him. She was sobbing, and trying to hide it. She looked tired. Devastated.

She’d come for him. She’d come for all of them. She’d saved their lives, and she’d had to watch the waters run red with Viserion’s blood.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He was, truly. She’d shown bravery, and devotion, when she came to their rescue. Nothing was ever black and white. He admired her. She had been alone in the world, and she’d survived. She did have a good heart. But it wasn’t enough to stem the madness and cruelty in her mind. The lust for power and control. She’d taken his boats and his weapons and trapped him. She’d burned men alive. She craved worship like her dragons craved destruction. 

But if he thought he needed her three weeks ago, he knew Westeros couldn’t survive without her now.

At least she believed the threat was real. Thanks to this fool's errand, and the carnage beyond the Wall.

He steeled himself. He needed her good heart, and he’d have to keep her madness in check. He reached for her. Tried a nickname, an endearment.

“Thank you Dany.”

Daenerys shifted in her seat. A mistake on his part. Too intimate, too fast. He’d only ever called her Your Grace before. His spy act was rusty.

Fortunately she still seemed inclined to believe him.

 _She’s halfway there already, even when I stumble_.

He was groggy, pain lancing through his chest with each breath. What else? The throne room. She’d turned on Tyrion, furious because Jon hadn’t bent the knee. Because he hadn’t called her queen. He swallowed.

“How about my queen?”

She softened. There it was, the title, the adoration she needed to hear. 

But she still hesitated. Jon took a deep breath. He imagined the shadow of Viserion’s wing darkening the courtyard in Winterfell. Sansa, brave and trembling, her arms around Arya and Bran, as the dead scaled the castle walls.  

 _Sansa, forgive me_.

“I’d bend the knee, but-“

Daenerys leaned in, ensnared. She was still uncertain. Even she knew this change was sudden.

“What of those who swore allegiance to you?”

_They’ll despise me. They’ll live long enough to despise me. Because of your dragons._

“They’ll accept you once they see you for who you really are.”

Jon watched Daenerys closely. He needed Daenerys to hear all the compliments and worship he couldn’t muster in those words.

“I hope I deserve it.” There were tears in her eyes.

His stomach sank. He hated this. She was vulnerable. She'd just lost one of her children. Now he was using her vulnerability to get closer to her. To secure his hold on her, and her dragons.

She’d told him when she returned from King’s Landing that strength was terrible.

He gazed into her eyes as the boat rocked, and stroked her hand. He felt her give in, and fall further in love with him.

Softness could be terrible too.

“You do.”

She left him, more malleable than she’d been before. He closed his eyes as she walked away, feigning sleep. He sighed and looked at the ceiling once he was sure she was gone. 

Beric had been right. He wouldn’t find joy in this deception. But he could keep others alive, and defend those who couldn’t defend themselves.

That would have to see him through. That would have to be enough. He’d deal with the fallout of betraying the North. He’d keep Daenerys where he needed her, by taking advantage of her good heart.

He closed his eyes again, and fell into a restless, uneasy sleep.


End file.
